


Spine

by Lightspeed



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alcohol, Body Shots, Body Worship, Drunk Sex, Intergluteal Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:55:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A boozy, spur-of-the-moment encounter in a storeroom finds Demoman, Scout, and a bottle of scrumpy up to no good.  But when Scout learns that his lover has a bit of a fixation on a certain part of his anatomy, and Demoman helps him discover a previously unknown erogenous zone, the scrumpy enters back into the picture for some creative drinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spine

The arch of Scout's back made Demoman's mouth go dry. Leaning, naked, against a disused storeroom crate, the American presented himself for his lover, looking luridly back over his shoulder. One hand was wrapped around the neck of a half-empty scrumpy bottle while the other propped his chin up. He shook his bare bottom teasingly, but it was the curve of his lover's spine that had the Scot's eye fixed.

How he loved the beautiful ways that man could move, the pretzels those gangly limbs could be tied into, the way his spine was nearly made of rubber with the way he could twist and bend. But the slope of his back as he stuck out his butt, asking to be pinned down and fucked, that was what drove him mad.

“You gonna stare at my ass all day? Or are you plannin' to fuck it at some point, Cyclops?” Scout teased, half-turning to get a better look at his lover, a tipsy grin wobbling across his face.

Demoman watched as Scout's back twisted with the motion, curving just so as muscles moved gently beneath his flesh. His world, gently swaying and fuzzy, was entirely encompassed with the sight, his eye focused with razor-sharp acuity on the soft shifting of his slim lover. “Ah, aye, sorry. I just--”

“Yeah, I know, my ass is breathtakin', huh?”  
“It is, but not what I'm gawkin' at, Love.”

“Oh yeah?” the younger man smirked, eyebrows dancing upward in his curiosity.

“Yer back,” Demoman purred, closing the distance between them, letting one rough, warm hand slide up from the top of Scout's ass, following the curve of his spine up to his shoulders, where it took hold of the side of his neck and drew him over for a kiss. Lips parted and tongues darted out to writhe together, the two men tasting each other, tasting salt and sweet, tasting spices and burning between hot, heavy breaths. “It's beautiful.”

“All 'a me is gorgeous, man. What's so special about my back?” Scout asked when they finally parted long enough to catch their breath, the bomber's erection pressing insistently against his hip.

“Little lines o' muscle, smooth curve o' yer spine, soft skin. I just want tae lick up an' down it,” came the Scot's confession, his lips straying to the younger man's neck, down to kiss reverently at the ridges of vertebrae barely visible beneath tanned flesh, to rub his fingers along the lean muscle that formed the shapes he found himself so enamoured with. His tongue flicked out to trace a crescent-shaped scar that sat between the runner's shoulder blades and make him hiss.

“Shit, I'd be okay with lettin' ya.” Scout licked his lips, taking a swig from the scrumpy bottle when Demoman's tongue had finally left his skin. He turned to allow the Scot full access to the plane of his back, leaning back against the crate in a smiling, boozy haze. “Love that tongue 'a yours, Babe.”

Warm lips smiled against the younger man's back, and Demoman's broad, rough hands slid along his sides, tracing his serratus before trailing down to grip his hips. His cock, eager and beginning to ache, rested gently at the cleft of Scout's ass, where he rubbed lightly, letting his hips roll.

Scout's breath grew deeper, the friction and motion only serving to excite him further. When that hot tongue snaked out to trace his spine, his knees began to shake just slightly. It was a sensation unlike anything he'd ever felt, and he wondered idly why Demoman hadn't deigned to indulge his fascination before. He could've found this erogenous zone and been taking advantage of it for months. Warm swells rose within the American, centering along his backbone and running to pool at the curve of his lower back, where it dipped and rose again to meet his bottom. It wasn't the blistering, electric pulse of a tongue along his cock or probing at his ass, or the gentle tickle of a licking tease of his nipples. It was a feeling that had him teetering on the edge of melting, collapsing into a formless fluid around his lover's feet in a warm, comfortable, quivering mass half-tainted by the scrumpy that still burned at the back of his throat. The scrumpy that had spilled onto his knuckles, and was cooling his flesh in the dry evening air.

“Hey, Demo, take this, I got an idea,” Scout ordered, holding the bottle of vitriolic liquor out to hand back to his older lover. “Ever hear 'a body shots?”

“Like what Sniper does when he's not payin' attention tae his work?” the bomber joked, taking the bottle.

“No, you dummy! You pour a shot's worth 'a liquor on a person's skin, then suck or lick it off 'a them. Like, usually you do it outta a belly button.”

“Sounds like a way tae turn a party intae an orgy.”

“Always wanted ta try it.”

“Bet ye do,” Demoman chuckled, eyeing up his lover as he lightly rubbed against his ass. “This goin' somewhere, boyo?”

“You like my back so much, I think you can figure out what I'm gettin' at, right?”

Demoman smirked, then let his tongue swipe over the runner's back in a broad, flat lap. “Think I have an idea.”

The cold shocked Scout at first, a wet trickle running down his spine from just below the base of his neck. It wasn't much, just enough to leave chilly tingles prickling up the fine, light hairs that coated his skin, the air moving in the room bringing with it a keen awareness as it brushed against him in the scrumpy's wake. Running in a thin rivulet down his back, the amber liquid reached Demoman's parted lips, jumping to his waiting tongue and scorching its way across his taste buds and down his throat. When he'd stopped pouring and the rotgut had been downed, the bomber carefully licked his lover clean, lapping up every errant drop of the sticky, hateful beverage that still clung to Scout's lithe frame.

As he went, so did his hips, rolling, growing faster in his lust. Soon enough, Scout began to rock back against him, the motion tugging soft moans from him even as the Scot's tongue did the same, nimbly tracing backbone and muscle, grunting through parted lips. Rough hands gripped slim hips harder, the scrumpy bottle clattering to the floor and rolling away, and soon Demoman was rocking against Scout, growing sweat and the beginnings of pre-come easing the friction against the younger man's smooth ass.

“Goddamn,” Scout breathed, one hand clawing at the crate while the other slipped below him to wrap around his own cock, tugging eagerly in time with Demoman's increasingly-frenzied humping. He'd wanted to get fucked, to feel the older man bury himself deep inside and drag wanton groans and gasps from him. He'd wanted to be pinned to the crate and screwed within an inch of his life, reduced to gibbering and drooling in the face of his lover's onslaught. Instead, he was being licked and rutted against, and in spite of what he'd been anticipating for their evening, he was more aroused than he could remember having ever been. Hearing the Scot, usually casual and in control when they were together, begin to whimper and keen quietly, pressing kisses to his spine like prayers as he humped the cleft of the runner's ass, it drove Scout wild in wonderful new ways.

Neither of them lasted long, pleased that the alcohol had yet to hit either of their loins, completely wrapped in the sweet stink of whiskey, the musk of their lovemaking, and the light squishing sound of Demoman's cock sandwiched between the cheeks of Scout's ass. Their grunts and moans rose just barely above it all, filling the small storeroom as the bomber shuddered and groaned, spending himself along his lover's lower back and bottom. He shuddered and gasped as the sight rocked him in the aftershocks of his orgasm.

The warm splatter on his back was the finishing stroke for Scout, pushing him past the edge to empty himself over his hand and onto the floor with a gasp, his legs giving out from under him. He clung to the crate, lowering himself to the cement below as Demoman reeled, trying to keep his feet planted.

Blue eyes looked up, half-focused, to meet a similarly-dazed brown eye, and both men fell into contented chuckles. Flopping down beside his young lover, Demoman scooped the runner into his arms and curled up with him against the crate, pressing kisses to his neck. He inhaled deeply at his hairline, taking in his scent as their bodies began to go slack, both men relaxing into each other, letting their satiety and the sweet kiss of scrumpy warming their veins take them into a comfortable stupor.

**Author's Note:**

> prompt fill for the TF2 Promptfest: Demoman/any - body shots


End file.
